Throne Of Glass Kindle Free Novels & Stories

Majori’s POV: I… am not dead? With great effort, I lifted my eyelids, feeling exhaustion deep to the bone. The first thing I saw was a high ceiling covered in old European motifs. The gilded patterns had faded with time, forming roses and winding grapevines that intertwined like a frozen garden suspended in the air. At the center hung a massive crystal chandelier, its glass droplets scattering faint light across the ceiling cold, yet exquisitely beautiful. This… was the room Vincent had given me when I first came to the Silverfang Pack.

Beverly says coldly. “And stay away from the new Alpha.” Then she leaves. Tears blur my vision. My room melts into a swirl of colors. I throw my books off the bed and collapse onto my pillow, crying. I’m pathetic. I’m weak. The Alpha is right. No wolf will ever want my children. The thought makes me cry harder. I turn onto my back. And suddenly I feel something strange. A presence. I open my eyes. My curtains are open. And standing outside my window—

Older. The girl's eyes widened as the page began to write itself, not from her touch, but from Elthara’s presence alone. “You’re rewriting the silence,” she whispered. “You’re… unmaking me.” The page glowed brighter, casting the girl’s shadow long and thin across the void. Her voice cracked, no longer confident. “Do you even know what that will cost?” Elthara’s fingers closed over the edge of the page, and her voice was clear. “Everything. But some endings are worth the cost.” The golden thread pulsed once more, not as a weapon, but as a key. The page began to fold inward, wrapping light around itself.

“Is that what this has all been about? You disrupted my wedding and kidnapped me, bringing me here so you could feel important and rub it in my face that you killed my family.” Sergio didn’t speak. “You let me believe I was nothing. Then you chained me to your side, gave me knives, maps, riddles... like I was a pawn in some twisted game.” He finally stepped forward. “You are simply here as payment for a debt owed to my family... You were never a pawn I chose.” “Then what am I?” she asked bitterly. He looked at her sadly. “You're the queen that was never meant to rise.” ************************************************** Suddenly, the manor’s alarm pierced the quiet.

But what they had called was no longer theirs to command. The ritual chamber split under the pressure. Black fire burst through the cracks, crawling along the carved runes like veins filled with poison. Patricia shrieked, clutching her head as stones rained from the ceiling. Elara stumbled back, candle dropping from her hand, her face twisted in horror. And Gloria—Gloria only smiled. Her veil slipped, her teeth bared. She drank in the sight like wine. “She’s waking,” she whispered. “Our queen of ruin. Our key.”

So, I found myself on a plane to the Malvara Isles. Days spent swimming in the ocean, soaking up the sun, I let go of all my weariness, relishing in the peace. Nine days after I left it all behind, I slipped into the bridesmaid dress my best friend sent over for her wedding. As I made my way to the chapel, I texted her: [Left the bouquet in the car, but I've got it now and I'm heading in to hand it over.] I just pocketed my phone when a voice, both familiar and pretentious, rang out: "Welcome, everyone, to the wedding of Sebastian and me."

In one hand, she held a talon—blackened and cracked, the last remnant of the Kilimane warlord she had slain. She smiled. “Pitiful,” she whispered, echoing the word her kind loved so much. “He thought his roar could rival mine.” The talon crumbled to ash between her fingers, vanishing into a curl of flame before it ever kissed the floor. She raised her hand, unhurried, and rested it on the arm of her throne. The legendary Throne of Flames. Gold hissed beneath her touch yet never burned her.

The goblet shattered in his hand, but he didn’t so much as flinch at the sting of glass piercing his palm. Crimson wine ran down his fingers like blood, dripping onto the obsidian armrest of his throne. The air thickened, oppressive, charged with his fury. He leaned forward slowly, claws digging deep into the throne’s armrests until cracks spider-webbed through the black stone. His eyes glowed faintly, a savage light burning within them, the kind of fire that promised ruin to anyone foolish enough to stand against him.

she said carefully, “this was found among the princess’s dowrys, as you instructed.” I recognized it instantly. My bridal mantle—woven in cloth-of-gold, embroidered with the northern stag and the southern lion, commissioned for a future queen. I stood at once. “Why is that in your hands?” Ethan waved dismissively. “Pack it and send it to Lady Ava’s residence. You have no right to wear state colors reserved for a sovereign’s bride. That mantle will serve her far better.” I moved toward it instinctively, but he caught my wrist and pushed me back.

I had stepped into his world thinking I was safe. What a fool I was. The door opened and he walked in, smelling of steel and sweat. His eyes were sharp, glittering with something cruel. “I gave you everything,” he says without preamble. “A name, a pack, a throne. And still you fail me.” I stiffened, my hands curling in my lap. “I have not failed. The Moon Goddess decides these things.” “The Moon Goddess?” He laughed, he sounded dark and cruel. “No, Jean. You will give me what I want, or someone else will.”